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Many moon’s ago a young boy was born into a family, into a tribe. That boy never knew his mother because she died giving birth to him. Her death was mourned and his birth celebrated on the same setting of the sun.

As the boy grew older his greatness grew obvious. With no mother to call his own the boy was raised at his father’s side. Strong as a bear and as quick as the cheetah, the boy was a natural hunter of the wilds. His skill with a blade great, his talent with the bow unmatched. The boy lived a life that most only see in their dreams. Hunting all day and night. His sleep schedule never dictated by the cycle of the sun. Feasting on the meat of his prey. At the age of ten he had strung his own bow. By twelve a hand-tamed hunting cat followed the boys every step. Day by day the boy grew, both aware and vocal of his great ability.

The boy lived his life by the tenants of Uthgar and the Red Tiger tribe. He followed those tenants vehemently. He lived them into manhood. Soon that boy was a near cloned image of his father, representing everything the Red Tiger tribe held dear. The respect and admiration the boy had for his father made what happened next even more tragic. On the evening before the boy’s eighteenth birthday a great tragedy occurred. He awoke in the dark of night to see a man he did not recognize standing over the form of his father. The man whispered to the boy of the power he possessed through wielding magics of an arcane nature. He tempted the boy with promises of great power and prestige in an organization known as The Zhentarim. Standing by the code of his deity, the boy knew that arcane magic was a crutch for the weak and proclaimed the man’s offer heresy. Sensing the strong resistance in the boys voice man attempted to persuade no more. With a bolt of purple energy the man was gone and his father was dead. The boy sat in silence until the sun rose the next morning. On that day the boy did not have a father. On that day the tribe did not have a chief. On that day a boy became a man.

The man stayed with the tribe as its best hunter but his mind was too distracted to serve his hereditary right as chief. As a man of Uthgar only one thing dwelled on his mind, vengeance. The days grew longer and the man used every hour to prepare himself for the day he met the man who killed his father. While almost every second the man honed his skills for the hunt in his future he never failed to reserve an hour a day to pray to Uthgar. He prayed for the patience to reserve his hunt when he was strong enough. He prayed for the deftness to release his arrows with unmatched speed. But most importantly, he prayed for Uthgar to give him the power to slay the man who killed his father.

One year to the day his father was murdered the man’s prayers were answered. He felt the soul of his god fill him with a power he had never known. He swelled with the power of animal and revenge alike. The man knew that today was the day his hunt began.

The man set out on his journey. He had nothing but a name and a face to follow but this was a task he knew he would complete. Days passed. Months passed before a reliable track was found on the trail. The man found a group waring with The Zhentarim known as the ‘Freedom Riders’, lead by Randal Morn, the deposed heir to the throne of Daggerdale. Hoping these skirmishes would lead him closer to a clue about his father’s killer Davarr joined Randal and his band.

With Devarr’s bow at their aid the Freedom Riders grew stronger and felled many of the Zhentarim. Recently however, what first appeared to be a successful ambush went awry. The Zhentarim caravan had a wizard more powerful than the Riders had prepared to face. The waves of arcane exhaustion swept over him. His eye lids fell heavy he collapsed in the grass. A normal man’s mind would be filled with worries of his impending death but this man had no worry. This man knew he still had a destiny to fulfill. A destiny that Uthgar and the Red Tiger would see fulfilled.